


Let Me Know

by birdwrites



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Accidental Coming Out, Alternate Universe - Hope’s Peak Academy, M/M, Not super shippy but it’s there, trans boy ouma, trans boy saihara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdwrites/pseuds/birdwrites
Summary: Ouma skipping class wasn’t that unusual, but the text Saihara got in response to his usual “where were you?” is enough to have him worried.





	Let Me Know

**Author's Note:**

> Quick fic I’ve been meaning to write for a while now. Not beta read, so sorry for any mistakes!

The hallway of the dorm building is quiet minus the faint buzzing of the fluorescent ceiling lights and the sound of rubber soled shoes shuffling along the faded carpet. Saihara fumbles with the textbooks and packets cradled in his arms awkwardly in an attempt to keep them from toppling. It’s not a far walk, but he should’ve just taken the extra minute to pack it all into his bag. 

 

Ouma had skipped class, which normally wouldn’t have been a big deal if testing hadn’t just wrapped up. Nearly every one of their classes’s required subjects were starting on new topics today and the text Saihara had gotten in response to asking where his friend was, “sick. dw,” was enough to convince him to at least check up on him.

Ouma skipping now and then when he’s bored isn’t that unusual (unsurprisingly, he’s a genius when he can be assed to do his work), but he always has a blatant lie at the ready for Saihara’s inevitable questions.

“Unfortunately my goldfish’s uncle passed away so I have to go to the funeral, ugh. It’ll be less boring if you come with me though ;)” (No, Ouma. Give your goldfish my condolences.)

“I just committed murder and I’m currently being chased by the police so I’m not gonna be able to make it.” (Make sure not to leave any evidence behind or it’s my job to bust you.)

“I promised my great great great grandmother I would learn how to make flower arrangements with her and I’ve ended up in the hospital with a stem stuck up my nose.” (When people tell you to smell the roses they don’t mean it that literally, Ouma.)

 

It’s probably been going on for too long and Saihara probably shouldn’t be encouraging him, but something in him likes having an inside joke with Ouma, regardless of how stupid it is.

 

So that few word answer hours ago definitely means something is up, and Saihara is going to figure it out (and hopefully convince him to study, though that may be asking for a miracle). Ouma hadn’t shown up to the dining hall at dinner either, and at the very least he always manages to snag some dessert from the food line. Saihara has never seen him actually pay for it, but the cafeteria workers gave up on caring a long time ago.

 

 

 

Saihara nearly drops everything he’s been trying so desperately to balance in an attempt to knock on the hard wood of the door. He exhales softly before opting to call out.

 

“Hey, Ouma? I-It’s Saihara. I know you said not to worry but I thought I’d at least drop off some of the work you missed today since we’re starting on some new subjects and-“

 

He’s cut off by a pained groan on the other side of the wall.

 

“Just a minute!”

 

There’s no mischievous lilt to Ouma’s voice.

 

 

 

It’s definitely been more than a minute. A quick glance to his watch tells Saihara it’s been four, actually, and he takes another deep breath before bending down to place the heap of supplies on the carpet beside the door. The dull metal of the doorknob is cool under his fingers.

 

“Is it okay if I come in? Oh-“

 

 

 

He’s so small that Saihara can barely see his body curled up in the plush armchair pushed against the corner of the room until he jumps upright when Saihara’s voice reaches his ears.

 

 

 

Ouma looks rough. It seems impossible but his skin appears to be even paler than usual, accentuated by the dim light of the bedside lamp. Deep violet hair is tied loosely in a ponytail with curling strands framing light cheekbones (which Saihara definitely does NOT find cute, no way), and Ouma is wearing nothing but pajama pants and...

 

a binder.

 

Saihara’s eyes fly wide open. He expects Ouma to play it off, make a silly joke or something, anything.

 

“Get out.”

 

Ouma’s eyes slowly raise up to meet his and Saihara can see how hard he’s trying not to let salty tears slip through his lashes. He bites his lip, the chapped skin tearing beneath his teeth.

 

Ignoring his demand, Saihara gently pushes against the door under he hears it click into place and takes a slow step towards the shaking boy.

 

“I said g-get out.”

 

Even his voice trembles. Saihara takes another step forward.

 

The cycle repeats, Ouma’s tone falling weaker and weaker until Saihara is right in front of him, scooping him, and carrying him princess style to his bed. He’s heavier than he looks but Saihara refuses to let it show.

Ouma doesn’t protest.

 

And so Saihara gives him what has to be a new record for the biggest hug ever, just letting Ouma cling on to the sleeves of his black hoodie and bury his face in the detective’s shoulder with arms thrown around him. A few tears sneak through, invisibly wetting the dark cloth. They sit like that, silent, until Ouma’s breathing evens out.

 

“Bad period?”

 

Saihara feels Ouma nod in response.

 

“Have you tried using a hot water bottle for cramps? It usually helps me with mine,” he continues. Halfway through the sentence Saihara realizes what he’s revealing here, but this is certainly going to be the easiest opportunity he’ll ever have to get it out.

Ouma clearly picks up on this too and raises his head to look at him with glistening eyes.

“You..?”

Saihara rips his gaze away and lets out a shaky breath, removes his arms from Ouma’s waist, and flushes brilliantly as he lifts up the hem of his hoodie to let the telling article of clothing underneath be confirmation.

“Oh my god? Oh my god,” Ouma giggles, lighting up his tear stained face. Suddenly Saihara’s hands are in his, squeezing tight.

“If you ever need anything let me know, o-okay?”

 

Ouma honest to god blushes and Saihara just might die at this point.

“A supreme leader of evil like me has hundreds of subordinates ready to help at my every beck and call, you know.”

 

How quick it is for the facade to fall back into place. Saihara doesn’t mind letting it slide as the price of getting a very rare chance to see the vulnerable side of Ouma. He can’t help hoping to get more chances like these, and he can’t deny that he wants to figure this boy out due to more than just curiosity at this point. He tries not to feel too embarrassed about it.

 

“Of course, how silly of me,” he plays along again. Giving Ouma’s hand a final squeeze, Saihara lets his frail fingers drop to the checkered blanket and rises.

“I’ll leave the work here, look over it if you get the chance, but no pressure. In the morning I’ll come pick it up and bring you a hot water bottle.”

 

He’s halfway to the door when Ouma calls out.

 

“Shumai?...

 

 

 

 

 

Thank you.”


End file.
